Reunions
by Violet Redmoor
Summary: Set between GoF and OotP Sirius turns up at Remus' house as instructed by Dumbledore. Will probably eventually be slash, but they've got a lot of sorting themselves out to do first.
1. Welcome back

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Remus, Sirius and all the rest belong to J K Rowling, and I am not she.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for mild slash. It's mostly in later chapters (as yet unwritten) but I thought it was probably a good idea to have the rating right now.  
  
Description: Set between GoF and OotP. Sirius, following Dumbledore's instructions, turns up at Remus' place. Remus/Sirius slash, though mostly in later chapters.  
  
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At first Remus thought he had imagined the scratching noise. He shook his head, muttering to himself that he was getting as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody. Then he heard it again, more insistently. It seemed to be coming from the back of the house; the back garden.  
  
He got up and walked warily into the kitchen, holding his wand before him. Perhaps anyone but Mad-Eye *would* have called him paranoid, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and after the letter he had received from Sirius that morning.  
  
Something was definitely scratching at the back door. He opened it just a fraction, then made an exasperated noise and stood to one side, pocketing his wand and letting the door open properly. The large black dog on his doorstep shook itself vigorously and trotted past him.  
  
"Honestly, Sirius," said Remus. "Why didn't you knock?"  
  
He turned back to his living room to see Sirius Black standing there, looking rather the worse for wear.  
  
"Well, I could hardly walk through the village like this, could I?" he asked testily. "Have some Muggle call the police?"  
  
"No, but who was going to see you in my garden? The nearest neighbour is half a mile away."  
  
Sirius shrugged. "It's habit, I guess," he said, sounding slightly apologetic. "I've been Snuffles more than I've been me, this last year or so."  
  
"It shows," replied Remus, refusing to hear the gloom in Sirius' voice. "Go on, upstairs. Have a bath and help yourself to one of my robes. They're probably a bit short for you, but it's nothing a growth charm won't fix. You do have a wand?"  
  
Sirius smiled and withdrew one from inside his robes. "Picked it up from Mundungus Fletcher on my way here."  
  
"Sirius! You know he probably stole that..." Remus trailed off and sighed. "Oh, forget it. I'd rather have you armed with a stolen wand than unable to defend yourself. Go on. I'll get us something to eat... I was just thinking of making dinner anyway."  
  
He headed into the kitchen without waiting to see if Sirius did as he was told and began rummaging in the cupboards for saucepans. After a few moments he heard footsteps creaking their way up the stairs.  
  
Half an hour later he was dishing up when Sirius came clumping back downstairs, his hair still damp and wearing one of Remus' shabbier robes, stretched slightly.  
  
"You have no idea how good it feels to be clean," sighed Sirius as he pulled up a chair. "Chicken pie - my favourite! Of course," he added, catching Remus' faint smile, "you knew that. Thanks, Remus."  
  
"Don't mention it," he replied, wondering why he felt quite so pleased. "I expect it's been a while since you had a decent meal."  
  
Sirius' mouth was far too full for talking; he made a vague noise of agreement through his potatoes.  
  
"I know you said you'd be coming here, but I didn't expect you so soon. I only got your letter this morning."  
  
"Ah, well, Buckbeak makes good time."  
  
"Buckbeak? Oh, Hagrid's Hippogriff, right?" Sirius nodded. "Where have you left him?" Remus asked, suddenly alarmed.  
  
"Hmm? Oh..." Sirius swallowed his mouthful and took a swig of water. "There was a little wood just outside the village. I left him there for the time being... I didn't realise you lived so far off the main streets. I thought we might be able to go and fetch him later, but you don't have much room here, do you?"  
  
"He can stay in the garden if we Disillusion him. Hagrid used to keep him in his hut; he's used to not having a great deal of space."  
  
"Do you mind fetching him? I'd go myself, but..."  
  
"No, no, we can't have you being seen. I'll go when we've finished eating."  
  
Buckbeak was reluctant to come with Remus. He dragged the Hippogriff round by the fields rather than walk it through the village, but even so his nerves were shot to pieces by the time he finally hauled him through the back gate and tied him up.  
  
"I don't think he likes me very much," said Remus, rather shakily. Buckbeak pawed at the ground, raking up huge clumps of mud with his front claws, and screeched. Remus backed carefully away and allowed Sirius to go past and calm the Hippogriff.  
  
"It's probably the werewolf thing," said Sirius, shooting him an apologetic look. "He'll get used to you, I expect."  
  
"You hope," corrected Remus. "I'll go inside; he'll probably be happier without me here."  
  
The sun had set completely by the time Buckbeak had settled down and Sirius joined Remus in the living room. Remus had lit all the candles and was staring gloomily into the empty fireplace.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Moony," said Sirius abruptly. "It can't be helped and it's not your fault."  
  
Remus smiled wryly. "You know me too well. Even after fourteen years. Would you like something to drink?" he asked, changing the subject. "Tea? Hot chocolate?"  
  
"Go on then." Remus waved his wand and two full mugs of hot chocolate appeared. Sirius laughed. "Of course." For a second it was like old times. Sirius - and James - had always teased Remus about his liking for chocolate.  
  
"Quite right." He took a sip and then sighed. "So. We've managed to avoid talking about business so far. I heard about what happened after the final task. Dumbledore's recalling the Order?"  
  
"So it seems. I've been round to Dung and Arabella Figg already. Had to leave a message for Hestia Jones; she'll contact me here."  
  
"You can't use this place as headquarters," Remus warned. "It's not safe enough. Has Dumbledore said..."  
  
"No, not yet. I'm just alerting people so far. He'll send an owl when he has further instructions for me."  
  
"And we can't use the same place as last time," sighed Remus. "Peter knows where it is."  
  
"Exactly." Sirius let out a huge yawn. "Oh, sorry. It's been a long couple of days."  
  
"Go to bed, if you're tired. I'll clear up down here. Just let me get a couple of blankets."  
  
"Blankets?" said Sirius blankly.  
  
"Yes, blankets, Sirius. Large, square, usually woollen. Ringing any bells? I don't mind sleeping on the couch, but even with a fire it gets a bit chilly in here, and you know I feel the cold." The south was apparently in the middle of a heatwave and a water shortage, but Remus was beginning to doubt that the warm weather would ever make it this far north.  
  
"There's no need for that," exclaimed Sirius. "I'll take the couch, I can't throw you out of your own bed."  
  
"Nonsense," retorted Remus, already on his way up the stairs to fetch blankets from the cupboard in his bedroom. "I've already said I don't mind, and you need the rest more than I do." He wondered absently where this sudden assertiveness had come from. Before, he would have gone along with whatever Sirius had said, however doubtful he was. That was how they had ended up in trouble so often at school, because he had not had the nerve to put a stop to what he could see were bad ideas. The intervening years seemed to have changed him more than he had realised.  
  
He deposited his blankets, and a pillow he had also collected, on the end of the sofa, ignoring Sirius' discomfort.  
  
"Go on, then. You can't miss the bedroom; it's the only room on the top floor. I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Sirius finally seemed to realise that argument would get him nowhere. "Not too early, I hope." He had always been the one to sleep late. Remus could not begin to count the times that he, James and Peter had resorted to tipping him bodily out of bed or drenching him in cold water. He swallowed a weary sigh that would only have served to worry Sirius. The four was down to two, and dwelling on what used to be would not help anyone.  
  
"Night," he said. 


	2. Nightmares

Disclaimer: If I were J K Rowling, a certain person would not have died. Grrr.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
A/N: It will be slash eventually. But they've had twelve years apart and a lot has happened; can you blame them for not instantly leaping into bed? You get a little implied about their previous relationship in this chapter, but that's all. There's a dream in the middle of this chapter - I did have it in italics but I can't figure out how to get them up on the site, so I've had to separate it differently. I hope it's still clear which is which.  
  
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It did not take long for Remus to clear up the remains of their meal and the two mugs, but by the time he had, the lights had gone off upstairs. He paused briefly at their foot, wondering if he should have handled that differently. Surely Sirius would not have been expecting them to resume their old intimacy? He had given no hint that he had, no hint that he even remembered they had been anything more than friends.  
  
Stop it, Remus, he scolded himself. Stop analysing everything. Aren't you just glad he's back?  
  
Yes, of course he was. It was only to be expected that seeing Sirius again after so many years would bring back all the old memories. He would just have to ignore it, that was all. He was perfectly capable of controlling himself. The first step, of course, being to stop standing at the foot of the stairs and gazing after Sirius like the lovestruck teenager he had once been.  
  
He realised as he went back into the living room that he had not brought down a nightshirt when he collected his blankets. He hesitated briefly... should he go and fetch one? But he did not want to disturb Sirius... or any more old memories. He could sleep in his robe. He had not been lying when he said the living room got cold, so he was damned if he was going to freeze to death sleeping in his underwear. Not even for you, Sirius, he thought.  
  
He curled up in his blankets and put out the candles with a lazy wave of his wand. He was no stranger to sleeping on sofas; he had slept on more couches than beds for the first few months after James and Lily died, before he found this house. It was the first time he had ever had to sleep on his own couch, however, and he had to admit it was not one of the most comfortable. But, he knew from experience that a little discomfort never usually stopped him sleeping when he was this tired.  
  
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He wandered through a street in Muggle London. He recognised it; it was not far from the flat he and Sirius used to share. There was a faint, persistent drizzle in the air and everyone he passed hurried along with their heads down, not even looking at him. He felt a chill and looked down to see that he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, already soaked through.  
  
He shivered and hurried on, though why he was in such a hurry he could not say. He broke into a run, but none of the Muggles spared him so much as a glance. The streets sped past him, all houses much like the one that had been converted into Sirius' flat.  
  
"Lily and James, Sirius!" he heard a voice cry ahead of him. "How could you?" That voice struck fear into him, and he swerved towards it. Around the corner he saw Peter and Sirius facing each other. Sirius' face was pale and from this angle he could see the wand clutched behind Peter's back.  
  
"No!" he cried, but neither of them heard. He raced towards them but was not in time; the street exploded before his eyes. "No!" he cried again, throwing up his arms to shield himself from flying rubble. The dust cleared, he could hear screams, and he lowered his arms fearfully and saw bodies, blood, a huge crater with water spewing out of it onto the street, and Sirius standing on the edge of it all.  
  
For a second Sirius just stared, looking as though he did not understand what had happened. He staggered a few paces backwards, then threw back his head and laughed. The sound made Remus go cold; Sirius sounded completely insane.  
  
Suddenly there were Ministry wizards everywhere. They must have Apparated straight to the disturbance. Some of them paled at the sight of the carnage, others tried to herd up the panicking Muggles. Several stepped towards Sirius, their wands held warily before them, but he did nothing but carry on laughing. Remus' heart leapt; Sirius/  
  
"No," he shouted, forcing his legs to move, running towards them. "No, no, it wasn't him..." A wizard tried to head him off but he swerved around him with the turn of speed that had always taken people by surprise.  
  
"He's innocent!" he called, as two wizards grabbed hold of Sirius, forcing his wand from his hands. Someone grabbed Remus from behind and pulled him back, away from Sirius and the Ministry wizards. He turned around to see Peter Pettigrew, blood streaming down his face and arms.  
  
"You!" he snarled, fighting to get out of Peter's grip, fighting to get his wand.  
  
"He killed me, Remus, he killed me! He betrayed us all... he betrayed you..."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Remus?" Someone was pulling him away from Peter; he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
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"Remus?" He awoke with a start to find himself back on the sofa in his living room, staring around wildly in the dark. It was Sirius' hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Are you all right?"  
  
"S... Sirius?" He had had the nightmare before, though usually he was fighting to save Peter, not Sirius. It always left him disorientated; it was a moment or two before he remembered where he was and the events of the previous day.  
  
"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice passably calm despite his pounding heart.  
  
"No, I couldn't sleep. I came down to get a drink, and I saw you thrashing about... nightmare?"  
  
"Mmm." Remus did not really want to discuss it with anyone, let alone Sirius.  
  
Sirius did not seem to want to cooperate, though. "Does that happen often?"  
  
"Often enough." Get the hint, dammit. Go and get your drink, and go back upstairs. Had Sirius always been this dense? He would also have been a lot more comfortable if Sirius would move his hand; he had left it on Remus' shoulder.  
  
Sirius sighed. "I've had nightmares every night since I got out." He said it so baldly that for a second Remus did not register it. And he had thought his life worked out badly.  
  
"Every night?" he asked quietly. There was no answer but another sigh. Sirius' hand finally moved, but rather than glad, Remus was worried. "Sirius?" He sat up, clutching the blankets around him, and groped for the wand he had left on the coffee table the night before. By the light of a couple of candles he could see Sirius standing there and shaking, his hands clutching at his arms.  
  
He reached up and pulled his old friend onto the sofa beside him. He was icy cold, so Remus shrugged off one of his blankets and wrapped it around Sirius' shoulders, pulling the other more securely about his own.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
He was not surprised when there was no answer; Sirius had never been much of a talker. A babbler, yes, when the mood took him, but he had never been good at serious conversations.  
  
"It must have been terrible."  
  
Sirius surprised him by speaking. "They steal everything." His voice was as harsh as it had been that night in the Shrieking Shack. "Every good memory you ever had... There were times when I thought I would rather die than survive one more day in that place. If I had to go back there..." his voice broke and he shuddered. "Every night, I dream that I am back in Azkaban," he finished quietly.  
  
"I'm... sorry." Sorry that Sirius had spent twelve years in Azkaban, sorry that he was not free of it even now that he had escaped, sorry that he had brought the subject up again.  
  
"No. I... didn't mean to bring it up. But then I always did feel I could talk about anything to you." He turned his head towards Remus. In the faint light from the two candles he had lit, Remus could not make out Sirius' expression. He was suddenly rather glad of that.  
  
Sirius drew a great shuddering breath and shook himself as if he could shake off his memories. "And you? You always did suffer from nightmares, if I remember rightly. Still the same ones?"  
  
"Sometimes." After Sirius had said he could tell Remus anything, how could he not return the compliment? "More often... you. And Peter. I... wasn't in time." Such few words to convey such turmoil. Sirius put an arm about his shoulders and he forced a weak laugh. "We don't want to be talking about this. Here..." He conjured up another couple of hot chocolates, but Sirius did not tease this time, just took it gratefully.  
  
"So." Sirius made a valiant attempt to change the subject. "How have you been? You've got twelve years to fill me in on."  
  
"Oh." Remus struggled to think of something worth telling his old friend. "Oh, well, you know me. Nothing exciting in my life. I've been out of work more often than in it. Took a few menial jobs just to get by, but none of them lasted very long." He forced a weak laugh. "In fact, I think teaching at Hogwarts the other year was the longest I've stayed in one job."  
  
"I was so surprised to see you. Never dreamt you'd be there... Don't know why, I guess teaching would suit you."  
  
"I did enjoy it," he admitted. "Harry tried to convince me not to resign, you know, but after everyone found out what I am, there would have been no way I could stay, even if I was willing to risk it."  
  
"Tell me about Harry," said Sirius eagerly. "I've been writing to him, of course, and I met him a few times this year. He looks so like James..."  
  
"My goodness, yes. It was a shock, I can tell you, the first time I saw him. And, of course, you already know he's as brave as James was..."  
  
The subject of Harry carried them into the early hours of the morning, and then they relapsed into reminiscing about the old days, until they both found themselves getting drowsy. 


	3. Routine

Disclaimer: Come on, did anyone really think I was J K Rowling?  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
A/N: It seems to be one step forward and two steps back. You'll have to let them work things out in their own time.  
  
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Remus awoke feeling warm, and safe. Neither was usual. He always slept cold, and he had not felt safe since Sirius had broken out of Azkaban. He was loath to move, but thoughts of the day ahead were filtering through the pleasant haze.  
  
He opened his eyes. The curtains were still drawn and the room was dark, but it was unmistakeably not his bedroom. For a moment he was thrown back fifteen years, as he tried to remember who he was staying with now, but then he recognised his living room and remembered that he had slept on the couch because he had lent his bed to Sirius.  
  
Now that he was awake, he was actually not at all comfortable. He felt like he was about to fall off the sofa, his neck was aching fiercely, and one of his legs had gone dead.  
  
And there seemed to be an elbow in the small of his back.  
  
He sat up abruptly, dislodging an arm from around his waist, and then yelped as his back protested. Sirius groaned, twisted onto his back and opened his eyes.  
  
"Moony? 'S not morning yet, is it?" His eyes widened as realisation hit him too, and he bolted upright, edging to the other end of the sofa.  
  
"Um..." They stared at each other. Perhaps fifty centimetres separated them; it seemed at once far too close and the hugest distance imaginable. The silence suddenly felt very strained.  
  
"Sorry," muttered Sirius. "Must have dozed off."  
  
"Me too. Um... breakfast?" Sirius murmured agreement and they got to their feet, each avoiding the other's eyes. Remus gasped and clutched at the back of a nearby chair as he tried to stand on the foot that had gone dead – because Sirius had been lying on it, he now realised – and Sirius winced, putting a hand to his back with an expression of agony. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.  
  
"We're getting old, Moony!" laughed Sirius. "We used to do that all the time and we never felt like this in the morning."  
  
"Or if we did, it was for quite a different reason." His brain shouted a warning but after a disrupted night it was not quite quick enough and the words spilled out before he could stop them. Going scarlet, he muttered something about getting dressed and hurried away from Sirius' stare.  
  
When he finally worked up the courage to come out of the bathroom and go back downstairs, Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Wondering if that was a good or a bad thing, he set about breakfast. He thought he should make a bit of an effort, since he had a guest. Never mind that Sirius had lived with him for years and knew perfectly well that he did not eat in the mornings without coercion. He excused it to himself by thinking that Sirius definitely needed feeding up. He was not quite as thin as he had been in the Shack last year, but then that was not saying much.  
  
Sirius' footsteps on the stairs announced his return before he appeared in the kitchen doorway. Remus concentrated on the frying pan.  
  
"Coffee?" suggested Sirius. His shocked expression had been replaced by the old early morning, half asleep look that Remus remembered only too well.  
  
"I don't have any... oh, actually, I think Hestia brought some round last time she visited. She complained about having to drink tea every time. Try the cupboard." He pointed with the spatula, without looking up, and heard Sirius rummaging.  
  
"Oh, good. Cups... no, don't tell me..." He went straight to the right cupboard and pulled out a chipped blue mug. Remus found himself mildly irritated.  
  
"Am I that predictable?"  
  
"You're very particular about where things are kept," answered Sirius after a moment's pause. "Did you say Hestia brought this? Jonesy?"  
  
"Yes. She visits once or twice a year." Remus saw straight through Sirius's attempt to change the subject. He had not even thought about it at the time but the kitchen was laid out exactly the same as the one in Sirius' flat, though on a smaller scale. Not surprising; he had always done their cooking and had arranged both kitchens to suit himself. Strange that Sirius remembered, though.  
  
"Do you see any of the others?" asked Sirius. "It'll save me some time if you know where I can find them."  
  
"Oh, Sturgis, sometimes. He's not due to visit for another couple of months, but I've got his address if you want it." What on earth would Sturgis think if he came home to find Sirius Black on his doorstep? Would he listen to Sirius or try and hand him back to the Ministry? Would any of their old friends be prepared to listen to him, to give him the benefit of the doubt? Even with Dumbledore's word to back Sirius up it seemed like asking too much of them.  
  
"Is that it?" exclaimed Sirius, looking rather annoyed on his behalf. "Out of the whole Order, only two have kept in contact with you?"  
  
"They helped me out," said Remus, rather embarrassed. "After you... I mean... Until I found this place. But I was a burden to them. And the full moons... even Hestia couldn't cope, when I stayed over her house on a full moon."  
  
"At least she tried," muttered Sirius, glowering.  
  
"And Dumbledore kept writing," persisted Remus.  
  
Sirius snorted; evidently he did not think that made up for the disappearance of the rest of their friends. "I can't believe none of them kept in touch."  
  
"Sirius," said Remus sadly. "Can you blame them? I reminded them of Lily and James. And you." He whispered the last, not wanting to say it at all, but Sirius looked like he had been slapped. He sat there staring at Remus in silence.  
  
"I'm sorry, but it's the truth. Half of them probably thought... well, you heard Snape."  
  
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Would you like apologies, or their heads in a basket? I can probably manage either..."  
  
Remus had to laugh. He looked almost menacing enough to have meant it, at that moment. "Thanks for the offer, Sirius, but I think I'll get by without either. I've coped so far, haven't I?"  
  
"That's not the point!" exclaimed Sirius, and for a second Remus wondered if he *had* meant it after all. He had a sudden vision of all the old Order members lining up to apologise to him, Sirius glowering at each of them in turn until their apologies met his standards.  
  
"Sirius! Do you really think it would do any good? The only times I've ever really needed anyone here was the odd full moon that was worse than usual, and since Snape's been making me the Wolfsbane Potion, that's not a problem."  
  
"Snape!" snorted Sirius, rolling his eyes.  
  
"He's not as bad as you make out," replied Remus reprovingly. "I know he's not the pleasantest of people, but Dumbledore trusts him. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt."  
  
"Maybe Cornelius Fudge will turn up here tomorrow begging to give me a full pardon and make you his second in command," retorted Sirius.  
  
It was Remus' turn to snort. "As cynical as ever, I see. There. Stop talking and eat." He tipped the contents of the frying pan onto Sirius' plate and turned away to make himself some toast and a cup of tea. He was glad to have Sirius back. Glad his old friend had turned out not to be guilty of the atrocities of fourteen years ago, and that he was safe and well after two years on the run.  
  
Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he would start to feel more cheerful and less... irritated. At the moment he felt as though someone had picked him up and dropped him fifteen years in the past, and it was not a comfortable feeling. He knew – the episode last night had proved it – that Azkaban had not left Sirius untouched. And yet, if he closed his eyes he could have been back in their old flat. Making breakfast while Sirius groused and grumbled like a sullen teenager. He was acting as though nothing had changed, as though the intervening time had not happened, and making Remus feel guilty for having experienced those years.  
  
And you are letting him, he scolded himself. Fourteen years of trying to get over him, and the second he reappears you fall back into the old routines as if he had snapped his fingers and ordered you too. Well, I'm sorry, Sirius, but I've changed in the last fourteen years and I have other things to worry about besides you now.  
  
"Are you going to wait for Hestia to get in touch or go looking for the others?" he asked, as he took his seat. It came out more sharply than he had intended, but he did not intend to apologise.  
  
Sirius looked up, looking mildly surprised. "I hadn't decided. You can fill Jonesy in if she turns up?"  
  
"Well, I don't know what Dumbledore intends, but other than that..."  
  
"I don't know what he intends, either; I was just told to notify the old crowd. I'll go looking for some more, then. If you give me Sturgis' address, maybe he can put me on to the next couple. I'll take Buckbeak and I'll probably be gone most of the day, but I'll be back here by evening."  
  
The unspoken question hung at the end of his words. Remus was irritated enough to consider not answering it, but not for long. "Good." 


	4. Explanations

Disclaimer: Still not J K, still own nothing.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
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It was harder than Remus expected to find something to do. He suddenly found it very difficult to remember how he filled his days. He could not go out, for someone had to be in when Hestia caught up with Sirius' message. Unless, of course, she did not intend to answer the message. Perhaps he would answer the door to find a squad of Aurors outside, demanding to know where Sirius was. Would Aurors give him the benefit of the doubt? No, of course they would not; Sirius would be lucky if they didn't bring Dementors with them to perform the Kiss there and then. And the evening would see Remus in Azkaban instead; there would be no leniency for a werewolf.  
  
And perhaps you're being paranoid. Sirius wouldn't leave a note signed with his name. He knows what would happen, and he isn't *that* stupid.  
  
Remus picked up the book he was currently reading – the memoirs of Floyd De Sang, a famous vampire hunter – but gave up when he found himself reading the same passage three times without taking any of it in. He ought to do some work on his latest article – he earned money by writing freelance for various magazines until each in turn found out what he was – but he knew perfectly well that he would not be able to write ten words of sense when he was this distracted.  
  
"Only you, Sirius," he muttered to himself with a flash of dry amusement. No one else had ever been able to throw him so off balance. He got up and paced a couple of times around the room while trying to think of something he could do. Nothing presented itself, and in the end he turned into his kitchen to make a cup of tea, which would at least occupy him for a little while.  
  
While he was leaning against the worktop, waiting for the kettle to boil, a voice hailed him from his living room.  
  
"Remus? Are you there?"  
  
He backed up a few paces and peering around the door saw Hestia Jones' head perched in the fireplace. She looked confused. As she well might, admitted Remus.  
  
"Hestia, it's good to see you," he said, crouching down in front of the fire. "Are you free for a while?"  
  
"Yeah, I've got the day off work. I got a note... well, I don't really know what to make of it. Can I come through? I'll show you."  
  
"Sure. Your timing's impeccable, as always; I just put the kettle on."  
  
She laughed, though the concerned look did not leave her face. "Two sugars, black," she told him. "I suppose you have still got my coffee? I know you prefer tea, but you could have changed your mind..."  
  
"No, I've still got plenty. Come on through; I'll be in the kitchen." She nodded and her head disappeared. Knowing that she would be with him in a few seconds, Remus retreated to the kitchen and got out a second mug. He had to search a little for the coffee; Sirius was apparently still incapable of putting anything back where he found it.  
  
The noise of someone clambering out of the fireplace reached his ears a fraction of a second before Hestia's voice.  
  
"So, what's going on?" she asked. "I assume you know about this note, do you?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking." Remus thought that it was probably a good idea to introduce Sirius to the conversation gradually, rather than as soon as Hestia arrived. "I don't know exactly what it says, though." He wandered back into the living room and handed Hestia a full mug of black coffee. "Have a seat," he suggested, taking a chair himself and leaving her the battered sofa. By the narrowing of her eyes he could tell she had not missed the neatly folded blankets and pillow perched on its arm. "May I have a look?"  
  
Hestia silently handed him a folded piece of parchment, and watched him over her coffee as he unfolded it.  
  
It was very brief and to the point. Very Sirius, in fact.  
  
Hestia  
  
Dumbledore has asked me to make contact with certain people he feels can be trusted. I don't want to put more in writing. Contact me at Remus Lupin's and I will give you all the details I know.  
  
Remus' address was written below, but there was no more. No signature. Remus would have recognised the handwriting anywhere, of course, but he doubted Hestia would. He looked up. She was still watching him, expectantly.  
  
"Well," he said weighing each word carefully. "I can't add much more to that, I'm afraid. Dumbledore's recalling the Order of the Phoenix."  
  
"I suspected as much," she said with a sigh. "I couldn't think of any other reason that Dumbledore would want such secrecy. I don't suppose... I don't suppose you know why?" Her voice was a little shaky; he suspected she had a very good guess as to why the Order was being recalled, but he could not blame her for trying to delay the inevitable.  
  
"What reasons could there be?" asked Remus. "Voldemort's back." Hestia shuddered at the name but did not object. "Luckily, he was only returned to full strength a week or so ago, so we have time to act before he can. I don't know Dumbledore's plans, though; at the moment we are just contacting people. Seeing who is still willing to help."  
  
He avoided Hestia's eyes as carefully as he avoided asking the question, but after a minute or two of silence, he glanced back up at her.  
  
She was staring into the fire, apparently thinking hard. Her face was very pale, and the hand holding her cup was shaking, its knuckles white. Eventually she tore her gaze from the flames and looked straight at Remus.  
  
"I know Dumbledore always said You-Know-Who wasn't gone for good, but I... I hoped. You know? I really thought we were safe... but it was only a lull in the storm, wasn't it?" Her questions did not seem to require answers; Remus stayed silent and sipped at his tea. With a great sigh, she seemed to pull herself together; sitting straighter on the sofa and carefully putting down the shaking cup of tea. A little colour began to return to her cheeks.  
  
"Tell Dumbledore he can count me in," she said firmly, her voice almost back to normal. "Who else have you found?"  
  
Remus had always admired that about Hestia; she was never uncertain for long. Even after a shock as big as this, she only took a couple of minutes to gather herself and then she became brisk and businesslike.  
  
"Arabella Figg and Mundungas Fletcher, so far," he said. "And me and the teachers, obviously. I don't know exactly who from the school Dumbledore is going to involve, but Snape, Hagrid and McGonagall would be my guess, maybe Flitwick, too. We've already gained some new recruits... do you know Arthur and Molly Weasley?"  
  
She nodded, eyes fixed on him. "Well, they've pledged their support to Dumbledore; they'll be initiated into the Order as soon as possible. Their eldest son, as well, from what I've heard." He drew a deep breath; now came the tricky bit. There was nothing to be gained from delaying it.  
  
"And... promise you'll just listen, Hestia, don't over-react, but..." There was a commotion from the garden and a voice that made his next sentence entirely unnecessary.  
  
"Stand still, Buckbeak, will you? Remus, can you give me a hand here..."  
  
Hestia's eyes had gone so wide they looked like they might drop out of her skull. "Remus," she whispered, "Remus, tell me that's not who it sounds like..."  
  
"Please, calm down, Hestia, we can explain... Dumbledore knows about this, he can back up our story if you need him to, but just stay calm..."  
  
"Remus!" Sirius shouted, sounding very aggravated. "Where are you?"  
  
"I don't think I'd be much use, Sirius," he shouted back. "He doesn't like me, remember?"  
  
"Oh, damn it... Stand still! All right, I'll handle it... I'll be with you in a moment. You stop that right now, Buckbeak, or I'll tell Hagrid on you..."  
  
Hestia was standing now, edging away from Remus and towards the fire. Her eyes were still wide and one hand gripped her wand tightly. She pointed it at him, shaking.  
  
"I don't know what you think you're doing, Remus..."  
  
"Please, Hestia, sit down. Sirius is on our side. He never betrayed us..."  
  
"How can you say that!" she shrieked. Silence suddenly fell outside. "You, of all people... Remember James and Lily, Remus? Remember Peter? What has he told you to make you overlook that? We know you were close, we all felt so sorry for you when he went over, but you can't believe him... you can't."  
  
"Dumbledore believes him," said Remus quietly. "If you'll just sit down and listen to us, we can explain it all." She was still shaking her head, and when Sirius appeared in the doorway she squeaked and spun round to cover him with her wand instead of Remus.  
  
Sirius looked so grim that if Remus had not known the truth he would have thought he was looking at a murderer, but he held up two empty hands and looked straight at Hestia. "I'm unarmed, Jonesy. I'm not going to attack you... or anyone else, for that matter."  
  
"You stay away from me!" she warned. Her voice was shaking as much as her hands, but she looked resolute.  
  
"Moony, you couldn't make me a cup of coffee as well, could you?" asked Sirius, his eyes flicking to Hestia's abandoned mug. His voice was steady, and though he had not come any further into the room he seemed perfectly calm. Remus wondered how Mrs Figg and Mundungas had reacted to seeing him again. Was he used to this by now?  
  
"Sure," he replied, briefly amazed that his own voice sounded as calm as Sirius'. He was certainly not so calm inside. He slipped past his old friend, praying that Sirius could handle the situation. Another mug, more coffee... Sirius also had two sugars, but he liked plenty of milk in his coffee... The kettle seemed remarkably slow to boil. Or was that just because he was so on edge? He could hear Sirius' low voice from the living room, but could not hear what was being said. Nor could he hear Hestia's replies, if there were any. It faintly ironic, he thought, that he had not had so many people in this little house for years as he did now that his best friend was trying to talk another old friend out of Stunning them both and turning them over to the Ministry.  
  
When the kettle finally boiled and he had made the coffee – taking as long over it as he reasonably could – he found that Sirius had made a little progress; he and Hestia were both now sitting down. Hestia had taken the furthest chair from Sirius and had moved it right back against the wall to add a few more inches between them. She was still pale and alarmed- looking, and was sitting in silence, her lips pressed tightly together as if to keep more harsh words from spilling out, but at least she was no longer pointing her wand at him.  
  
"Here," said Remus, handing the cup to Sirius and taking a seat beside him. He could see Sirius' wand lying on the table – presumably to convince Hestia that he was indeed harmless – and took his own out, throwing it gently beside Sirius'. He recalled that similar measures had been needed to convince Harry, Hermione and Ron to listen to them, and wondered if they would have to resort to this every time they met another old friend.  
  
"I was just waiting for you," said Sirius. "Jonesy's agreed to hear us out. Shall we start with the demonstration?" Without waiting for an answer, he transformed in his seat to the familiar black dog, and then back again while Hestia was still gaping at him.  
  
"James and Peter were Animagi too," he said. "James was a stag, Peter a rat. That's how..." 


	5. Never forgotten

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. You think about that.  
  
Rating: PG-13 (eventually)  
  
A/N: This is turning out to be a lot longer than I expected. Not that I'm not enjoying writing it, but I did expect it to be finished by Chapter 5.  
  
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It took over two hours and several more cups of coffee before Hestia believed them. Even then, Remus was sure that it was only their continued insistence that Dumbledore could and would verify their story that convinced her. Before she left, she promised that she would not tell anyone of Sirius' whereabouts, and just as she was about to step into the fire, she looked over her shoulder and added  
  
"You can still tell Dumbledore to count me in."  
  
Neither of them had time to respond before she had gone.  
  
With a heavy sigh, Remus closed his eyes and leant back into the sofa. "I was worried for a while, there," he admitted.  
  
"She wasn't happy, was she?" sighed Sirius. "Mind you," he added, "that was a bit of bad timing on my part, wasn't it?"  
  
"It could have been better. I was just about to try and explain you. Why *are* you back so soon?"  
  
"Sturgis was out. At work, I suppose."  
  
"Did you leave a note for him, too?" asked Remus warily, not looking forward to having to go through the whole scene again, and Sirius laughed.  
  
"No. I'll go back later. There's no more I can do until Dumbledore contacts me. Not unless Sturgis has some more addresses, anyway."  
  
Remus nodded and opened his eyes again. He could feel the beginnings of a headache, and it felt like it was going to be a nasty one. His eyes fell on the collection of used cups on the table. He ought to clear those away. He sat up and reached for the first, but Sirius jumped quickly to his feet.  
  
"No, I'll get those. Locomotor cups." Immediately they jumped into the air, and jostling and clinking, they followed Sirius into the kitchen like a flock of ducklings. Remus stifled a smile at Sirius' expense. It had always amused him to see Sirius doing household chores; he did not look like the sort of person who did such things. As soon imagine Professor Dumbledore darning socks.  
  
He rubbed ruefully at his neck. He always suffered from headaches and tense muscles in the run up to a full moon, but with that still weeks away this could be down to nothing but stress. There had been a moment – before Sirius had taken control of the situation – when he had been almost sure Hestia was going to turn them both in to the Ministry.  
  
The sofa suddenly sagged and Remus jumped; Sirius had just sat down again but Remus had not even realised he was back in the room.  
  
"You walk too quietly," he scolded. "Although... I seem to recall that's why we called you Padfoot in the first place."  
  
Sirius laughed. "That's right. And you deserved Moony for all the times we had to wake you out of a daydream."  
  
"I never daydream; I was thinking. I understand that's a foreign concept for you..." He ducked Sirius' playful punch, but that pulled at his neck muscles again and he grimaced.  
  
"Here," said Sirius quietly. "I think I remember how to do this..." He used to be very good at massages – Remus was not the only person who could vouch for that – but it was not a skill he had had much call for in the last fourteen years. Still, a tiny smile appeared on Remus' face as he rubbed gently at his shoulders, so he could not have completely lost his knack for it.  
  
This was unexpected but very effective; Remus felt the tension melting out of his neck and shoulders. Nothing had ever been able to relax him as well as one of Sirius' massages... well, almost nothing, but *that* was not an option. Sirius was instantly forgiven for irritating him that morning. He closed his eyes to shut out the dingy living room; shut out the noises of the cups washing themselves up in the kitchen, the scratching and rustling of Buckbeak in the garden.  
  
"Re?"  
  
He opened his eyes and looked round at Sirius in sudden surprise. Sirius had stopped, but his hands still rested on Remus' shoulders, and he looked... anxious? Concerned? Remus could not quite place it.  
  
"You know," he remarked, his voice unexpectedly hoarse, "I don't think anyone's called me that since..." Since Sirius had been put into Azkaban, but it did not seem fair to remind him of that. Instead, he said with simple truth "I missed you, Padfoot."  
  
Sirius' blue eyes seemed to darken. His hands slid away and he turned his back on Remus. "No you didn't," he replied, his voice muffled. "You thought I was a murderer and a traitor. Not that I'm blaming you; what else could you think? But if you thought of me at all you must have hated me for what I did to you. To them."  
  
Remus shook his head mutely, but Sirius was not looking at him. "Sirius!" he exclaimed, grabbing his friend's shoulder and forcing him to turn back. "I missed you," he repeated firmly. Sirius still looked disbelieving; his faced closed, and Remus realised that nothing short of brutal truth was going to convince him. "Yes, I thought you were the traitor. I thought you killed James and Lily. But even if I hated you then, it was for taking away my Sirius as well as for the deaths. *My* Sirius would never have betrayed us... do you see? Even when I thought you were the murderer, I missed the Sirius I remembered."  
  
"Your Sirius?" he repeated with a half amused, half disbelieving expression.  
  
Remus shrugged awkwardly. "And they always thought you were the possessive one," he joked, trying to pass it off.  
  
"I had my moments," admitted Sirius. They were skirting around their history without actually acknowledging it, and the pauses in the conversation were becoming more and more uncomfortable. Something like their old easy banter had returned, but every reference to the past brought up a hundred old memories and feelings that Remus did not want to probe too closely.  
  
"What was wrong with Buckbeak?" he asked. Was it his imagination or did Sirius look disappointed? "Sorry I couldn't come and help, but apart from the fact that I was trying to stop Hestia running straight to the Aurors, I'd probably only have upset him more."  
  
"Yeah, I should have thought of that. I found out what was upsetting him eventually – there were a couple of gnomes under your garage."  
  
"Oh, not again! I cleared them out last week, but they seem to like it there..."  
  
"Well I got rid of them for you, maybe it'll last this time."  
  
Silence fell. After a few seconds, Sirius realised that the washing up had finished; he ambled into the kitchen to clear them away. Unlike him to be tidy, but maybe – like Remus with breakfast – he was trying to make an effort. A loud crash made Remus wince, guessing that his mugs would have a few more chips in them now.  
  
He returned to his fruitless attempts to occupy himself and stared blankly at his book again.  
  
"Hey, Moony." He turned around to see Sirius peering round the doorframe at him. "Did you have anything in particular to do today?"  
  
"No, not really." When do I ever? he asked himself silently. "I've got some work I should be getting on with, but I can do that any time. Why?"  
  
"I fancied maybe going for a walk or something? I saw a pub in the village..."  
  
"Sirius, do you have any idea how much the Ministry is offering to anyone with information that leads to your capture?"  
  
"No," he replied with the same careless shrug that Remus remembered.  
  
"Ten thousand Galleons. So I don't think walking into the village pub is the wisest thing you could do."  
  
"I'm not stupid, Moony. I was thinking of going as Padfoot... Ten thousand Galleons?" he asked, momentarily distracted. "Really?"  
  
"Yes, really."  
  
Sirius gave a loud bark of a laugh. "Well, that's quite impressive, isn't it? Good to see someone's finally realised my true worth, even if it is that idiot Fudge." He paused, seeming to consider the matter a little more, and laughed again. "Ten thousand. Maybe you should turn me in, Moony; buy yourself a nicer place." He continued to laugh, but stopped when he saw Remus' expression. He folded his arms and gave Remus a mildly exasperated frown.  
  
"That's not funny."  
  
Sirius was unable to restrain himself for very long; he was grinning broadly again. "Oh, you know it is really."  
  
Sirius' grin had always been infectious, but Remus fought to keep his face stern. "Somehow I don't think you're taking this seriously. And what's wrong with my house?" he added, in a highly offended tone, his frown deepening.  
  
That set Sirius laughing again, until he was wiping tears from his eyes. Remus rolled his eyes and turned back to his book until Sirius had finished and sat down next to him again.  
  
"So, are we going out or not?"  
  
"This is a really bad idea, Sirius. It can only end in disaster." Sirius continued to grin at him; even when Remus stopped looking at Sirius he could feel the grin boring into him.  
  
"They all know I don't have a dog."  
  
"So I'm a stray. I turned up on your doorstep and you couldn't turn me away. Which does happen to be the truth."  
  
"You'll forget yourself and do something stupid. You never could remember to act like a dog."  
  
"I'll be good, Moony, I promise."  
  
"I've heard that before."  
  
"Please?"  
  
Remus sighed. "Let me go and put on some Muggle clothes." 


	6. Memories and Lies

Disclaimer: I'm just filling in the gaps in someone else's story. Anything you recognise, it don't belong to me.

A/N: Well, this one's been a long time coming – thanks to the recent reviewers and the people who bookmarked it – you inspired me to come back to this fic. I think I have an idea where it's going now, so hopefully it won't be nearly so long before the next update.

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The southern heatwave had finally hit the village; Remus abandoned his overcoat five minutes into their walk, slinging it over his arm. Sirius seemed to have gone completely insane. He was running in circles around his old friend, on several occasions nearly sending Remus flying as he tried not to stand on Sirius' paws or tail.

"Oh for goodness' sake!" exclaimed Remus after this happened for the third time in quick succession. "I know you haven't been getting out much, but calm down!" For all of two minutes, the huge black dog settled into a sedate walk at his side. Then a pheasant scuttled across their path and Sirius was off again, bounding after it until it lurched into the sky in an alarmed rush of feathers. Sirius raced across the field in pursuit, and Remus halted, exasperated, to wait for him to return again.

Panting with exertion, Sirius reappeared five minutes later. Remus had not moved. Sirius seemed to realise he was not in the best of moods; he crouched by Remus' feet, whined, and wagged his tail hopefully, for all the world as if he really was a dog in disgrace with its master.

"This was your idea. If you keep running off like that it'll take forever to get to the village." Sirius whined again, and bumped his head against Remus' foot. Remus had never been able to resist Sirius' charm in human form, and as a dog he was ten times worse. With a sigh he unfolded his arms and set off down the track once more, Sirius trotting beside him.

They reached the pub without any further mishaps, although once they were on the main road through the village Sirius started growling at passing cars. Sure he was doing it for attention, Remus ignored this completely and Sirius had to abandon his games in order to keep up with him.

"Morning, Remus," said the bartender cheerfully as they entered. "Where'd you get that brute from?" He was not such a regular visitor to the pub as some, but in a village of this size everyone knew everyone else, and most of their business, too. The Muggles all thought Remus was a friendly but eccentric writer, and he chose to cultivate that impression.

"Stray," replied Remus, as Sirius had suggested. "I get the impression he's adopted me."

"What'll it be?"

"Pint of bitter, please. Oh, and a bowl of water, if you don't mind," he added, waving a vague hand in Sirius' direction. The black dog waved its tail enthusiastically and turned its pale eyes hopefully to the bartender, who chuckled as he turned away to get the order.

"You'd almost think he understood what you were saying."

"Don't some people claim they do?" asked Remus, feigning innocence. "I'm more of a cat person, myself," he added mischieviously, ignoring Sirius' indignant bark, "but he turned up half-starved on my doorstep and I'm too soft for my own good."

He took his pint and Sirius' bowl into the pub's small garden before they could be engaged in conversation and settled onto a shaded bench while Sirius chased a squirrel across the grassed area and up a tree. He sat barking at it for a few seconds, and then before Remus could get cross, Sirius seemed to decide he'd had enough for the moment and returned, flopping his front paws and his head into his lap with a sigh.

"Get down!"

Sirius whined and nudged Remus' hand until Remus gave in and scratched behind his ears.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's too soft for my own good." Sirius gave the quiet little bark that passed for a laugh while he was a dog and revelled in the attention for as long as Remus allowed it. "Go on, get off," he said eventually. Sirius slid onto the floor, giving him a reproachful look, and lapped half-heartedly at the bowl of water. For all that it was his suggestion, this couldn't be much fun for him. How long had it been since he'd been able to sit in a pub with a drink? The last time was probably before James and Lily had gone into hiding, when the five of them had met up in the Three Broomsticks to celebrate Peter's birthday, and had laughed and joked, however strained the atmosphere beneath it all. Now if Sirius were to walk into a pub, even a Muggle one like this, he'd probably find the Aurors on their way before he'd even ordered his drink.

Sirius barked softly. Remus looked down and smiled at his oldest friend, whose ears and tail were drooping as if he knew the melancholy turn Remu's thoughts had taken. "Wool-gathering," he said apologetically. "Mooning around, even," he added with a wry smile. Sirius gave the light barking laugh again, and wagged his tail a little. Had anyone ever understood him so well? "I was just wishing you could be yourself. It'd be nice to sit here having a drink with you again." Even in dog form, Sirius managed to give him an understanding look, and licked his hand where it hung down by his knee.

"Remus?" They both looked up, startled out of their moment of perfect understanding. A petite brunette was approaching across the pub garden, a pint of beer in one hand and her bag in the other, smiling broadly. "I haven't seen you for ages. You've not been avoiding me, have you?"

Remus' smile became rather fixed. "Fiona. Hi. Um. . . I've been busy."

"Glad to see you've got a bit of free time now, then. Mind if I join you?"

"Oh. . . Um, sure," he replied, cursing his inability to be rude to people, and not for the first time. Fiona slid onto the bench opposite, her smile growing wider still.

"So, busy doing what?" she asked. "Deadlines?"

"Something like that," he replied noncommittally. "You know what it's like." Sirius had sat up, his head well above the table even though he was sitting on the floor, and was giving Fiona a look that Remus recognised would have been very affronted had he been in human form. He barked, and bared his teeth at her.

"Goodness," she said, jumping slightly. "Is that thing yours? It's _big, _isn't it? How long have you had it?"

"Stop it," he said to Sirius. "Couple of days," he lied, looking back up at Fiona. "He's a stray."

Fiona grimaced. "Are you keeping it?" she asked, distaste plain in her voice. "You should take it to the vets, at the least; it could have all sorts of diseases."

Had he not been in such a very awkward situation, he would have laughed at poor Sirius' expression. But even had he not been preoccupied by thoughts of an impending war and trying to enjoy an afternoon with his ex-convict best friend, spending time with Fiona would not have been top of his to-do list.

"I've got quite fond of him, actually," he said stiffly, and Sirius looked up with doggish adoration in his eyes, nearly making him laugh despite his discomfort. "And he seems very clean, for a stray."

"Never liked animals, myself." said Fiona cheerfully, apparently unaware of the offence she was causing. "And a big ugly thing like that, well, I'd be frightened of it turning on me. Especially since you don't know where it's come from; who's to say it's been properly trained?"

"Oh, come on, Fiona," he said. He just prayed Sirius didn't do something stupid, like jump at her. "He's just a big overgrown puppy. He's as friendly as anything."

She didn't look convinced. Unsurprisingly, since Sirius was growling at her; Remus flapped a hand angrily at him, trying to make him behave himself without much hope that it would work. Fiona obligingly changed the subject. "Hey, are you doing anything this weekend? Some friends of mine are having a party. . ."

Remus forced himself not to look at Sirius. "No, I have to work this weekend," he said, which was not exactly a lie.

"The _whole_ time?" she asked, mock-pouting. "Surely you can spare a few hours on a Saturday evening?" She actually reached across the table to take his hand; horrified by her persistence he quickly moved it to lift his pint glass and took a fortifying gulp.

"I'll be away. Meetings and so on. London."

She frowned, her hand still on the table where his had been; he clung to his glass like a lifeline. "Remus, what's _wrong_ with you?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." To his horror there were tears in her eyes. "I really thought you were it, you know. And then you disappear off the face of the earth without even a proper goodbye. I didn't know what to think! And now you're acting like you barely know me. . . Did any of it mean anything to you?"

Remus gritted his teeth. "Not _now_, Fiona."

"Well, when, then?" she said, her voice getting louder. "When? If I let you go now it'll be another six months before I see you again, if at all! You owe me an explanation, Remus."

He grimaced. Unfortunately, he couldn't argue with that one. "Look," he said, lowering his voice so they couldn't be overheard, "It was never supposed to be anything serious. I thought you understood that from the start."

"I can't help it! I loved you!"

Damn! Just what he didn't need Sirius to hear. And now he had a gut-full of guilt to deal with on top of everything else. "I'm sorry! You weren't supposed to get attached to me. And I'm sorry I disappeared; I was called away for work and I was gone a whole year, and when I got back I just. . . I thought you would have forgotten about me."

"Forgotten about you?" she repeated, her voice an incredulous squeak. "_Forgotten. . ._" Without warning she stood up and threw her drink over him. The few other people in the pub on a weekday afternoon turned and stared as she snatched up her bag and stormed off. Shandy dripping from his face, he sighed, and downed the last of his bitter; almost a full half pint.

"Well, that's a first," he muttered to Sirius, who looked as astonished as it was possible for a dog to look. "You ever had a drink thrown over you?" The dog nodded enthusiastically, wagging its tail. "Should have known. Come on, let's go. She has large and scary brothers." He tried to keep his voice light; back in the days before it would never have fooled Sirius, but if he was lucky the twelve years' absence would had got him out of practice. They stopped long enough on the way out for Remus to borrow a towel from behind the bar and wipe his face, though he was still sticky, his shirt and hair were soaked, and he would need a shower when he got home.

Sirius transformed the instant they were back inside his kitchen, and opened his mouth for what Remus was sure would be a stream of awkward questions. "I'm going to go get changed," he said, quickly. "You couldn't make a cup of tea, could you? I could use a Firewhiskey, to be honest, but since I don't have any of that, a tea will have to do." And he headed swiftly upstairs before Sirius could say anything, wondering whether it was worth drowning himself in the shower to put off answering questions for a little longer.

In the end he decided that his need for a cup of tea was stronger than his need to hide in the bathroom, and descended the stairs, back in his worn, comfortable robes to find Sirius settled on the sofa with two full, steaming mugs and a plate of biscuits on the table before him.

"Thanks, Sirius."

"Moony. . ."

"Not now, Sirius."

"But Moony. . ."

"_Please_, Sirius, I don't want to talk about it." For a few moments they sat in silence, sipping their drinks. Then he took a biscuit and Sirius took advantage of his full mouth to voice the question he was particularly dreading.

"Remus. That was a woman."

"Well observed," he replied, but the look on Sirius' face made it clear that this was not a joking matter. "Yes," he sighed.

"But you. . . I mean, we. . ."

He sighed again. "Do you remember when Lily found out about us?" he asked.

Sirius frowned at the change of subject. "Ye-es. . ."

"And she asked a very similar question? Though I seem to recall she was rather more articulate about it."

Sirius snorted. "How could I forget? You went so red I thought you might explode."

"Do you remember what you told her?"

"That she was a blip on your record."

"Yes. Well. . ." he took a deep breath because there was really no tactful way to phrase this. "I think it was more the other way round."

Sirius blinked. "So. . . You're calling me a blip now?"

"Yes. Sorry." He remembered having this conversation with Lily, and smiled, sadly. Even his happiest memories – thoughts of Lily and the others, of Hogwarts, before the war had caught up with them – were still tinged with regret, fourteen years on. "You were a very nice blip, though," he said, in a pacifying tone. Just as Lily had, Sirius gaped at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

"Wow, thanks, Moony, what a compliment."

"Any time."

Sirius took a biscuit, stuffed it almost whole into his mouth, plainly buying himself time to think.

"It's just," he said quietly, looking at the faded wallpaper as if he was seeing something else entirely, and sounding much more vulnerable than Remus ever remembered him from before. "It's just. . . it was. . . _real_. . . wasn't it?"

Years and years ago he'd decided that his heart had been broken so many times that there was no more damage that could be done to it. Clearly he had been wrong, for at the wistful, fragile tone of Sirius' voice he felt it fracture into yet more pieces. Not for himself, but for Sirius, who truly was just a shadow of the brave, fun-loving boy; the talented, foolish, affectionate young man he had once been. I have to fix him, he thought, knowing it in every fibre of his being. If I do anything, _anything_ with this wasted life of mine, I have to fix him.

"Of course it was real!" he said, as forcefully as he could. "Sirius, I. . ."

"It's just," began Sirius again, interrupting and turning dead eyes on him, "Azkaban, it does something to you, and I was in there for so long. . ." He trailed off but Remus could tell he wasn't finished, and waited patiently for Sirius to find the words for what he was trying to express. He'd almost finished his tea before the next word was spoken. "It was so long, but you just can't keep track of how much time is passing. When I came out. . . It didn't feel like twelve years; I still felt about twenty-one, give or take a few aches and pains, a few grey hairs. But nothing is quite like I remember it, and perhaps it's because of the time I've missed, but perhaps not. . . I just don't know how much I can trust my own memories any more. The miserable ones, they're as clear as crystal, because I've relived them so many times, but anything else. . ."

"I'll tell you," said Remus, desperately. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, anything you've forgotten, or you're not sure of. No matter how trivial or stupid you think your question is, I'll answer it for you. You can ask me what colour the curtains were in our dormitory at Hogwarts, if you want, and I'll tell you. You always did say I had a ridiculously detailed memory, well, at least now it'll be good for something."

Sirius just stared at him, and he felt a faint blush staining his cheeks. He didn't go red half as easily as he used to at school – he'd lived through too much now – but it stood to reason that if anyone could bring that out in him again it would be Sirius.

"What colour _were_ they?" he asked eventually, a slight smile on his face and life beginning to creep back into his eyes.

"Dark green," replied Remus instantly. "Until you and James decided that wasn't Gryffindor enough, in our second year; then you turned them bright scarlet until I persuaded you tone it down a bit. They stayed a sort of crimson colour until we left; they probably still are now."

"We can ask Harry," suggested Sirius, definitely smiling now.

"Indeed, if you're prepared for an odd look. I can tell you, after a year as a teacher, teenagers are masters in odd looks."

Sirius actually laughed, and Remus felt a bit lighter. He wondered, if he made Sirius laugh enough times, would his broken heart start to mend itself?


End file.
